Tuesday's Child
by Doughnut of Ericks
Summary: Twenty year old, post office worker, Serena Lawrynce fulfilled an empty, virgin life, who also held a clandestine crush on her neighbor next door. Now dear Serena is trapped in the Shields Manor, working as some servant to the passionate Darien Shields.
1. Wednesday

Nikki Miyawazas Napkin Note: (A Napkin Note is some "little" rant I wrote on a piece of resturant napkin.) Bunny Rabbit is here for another story of intimate possession. My innocent alter ego shouldn't be writing such adult things, but even irony sounds funny, especially when Bunny Rabbit writes the very naughty things in my stories, while Crescent Wolfie scribbles about comedy and jokes that isn't funny. Bunny and Wolfie make up the incredible writing author with her pen name as Crescent Bunny Wolfie Rabbit, okay so maybe I need to think of another name . . . um, how about Nikki Miyawaza? Okay, so I am an anime freak, so what? Read. Read. Read. My stupid little story of Serena and Darien. Not Usagi and Mamoru (sp?). Not Serenity and Endymion. I think they should use Serena and Darien for Alternate Reality, Usagi and Mamoru for Episode Fics, and Serenity and Endymion for Moon Kingdom Fairy Tales. That's how my system works, deal with it or go to hell. It's better than going to the Bahamas.  
  
Title: Tuesday's Child Authoress: Heidi Sigua Story Genre: Romance/Angst/Alternate Reality  
  
Part One: Wednesday  
  
"Love was always a stranger to me. But when I listen to him play those seductive melodies and harmonies, humming against my skin, under the moonlight, I knew something a kin to love existed." - Serena Lawrynce, "Wednesday"  
  
Bliss. The music radiating from his room had sounded like the celestial choirs of cherub angel, fluttering their silk wings and giggling madly at the hilarity of life. From my windowsill, I, a complete stranger, watch cautiously as he played "bliss" on his grand piano from the other window, so unaware that his music was my only life supply.  
  
I, Serena Lawrynce, was nothing ordinary, or something extraordinarily freak-ish. Being born as a solemn orphan, I grew to find myself empty, acting empty, living the empty shell of life. Neither intellectual or gorgeous, my occupation and life orbited around my job at the metropolis Post Office, stamping envelopes for a living. I didn't mind; I didn't care about anything. Wake up to the morning sun. Go to work. Sleep. Always the same routine, that sometimes I bask at the idea that time really does pass.  
  
I, Serena Lawrynce, with my 5 foot statue and non-vibrant flaxen hair woven in a loose braid every single day of my 23 year old life span, and to make the entire loner look complete, wore hideous, thick glasses that marred my non-existent beauty even more so. The funny thing is that I didn't care. However, one person and his luster for music had made me want to be more than this empty, pitiful excuse for a person, to be beautiful and charismatic, to be perfect for the mere reason that he might love me.  
  
Love was always a stranger to me. But when I listen to him play those seductive melodies and harmonies, humming against my skin, under the moonlight, I knew something a kin to love existed. Even for an unlovable person like myself. Who is this person, this man, who broke the unattainable lack-luster surrounding the black hole of her heart and seized it with a simple glance?  
  
He, an attractive man who loomed beyond my height at 6'3 and had raven locks that sprawled against his eyes just to have his hand brush it away, who with his love for playing the blessed piano had gained more than his pleasure, but hers as well. His name was Darien Shields as I recalled from the mailman who I had bantered with my indifferent eyes and eerie, hollow expression. Darien Shields, the man who lived across from me, worlds apart, with only a bridge of sound as a connection.  
  
I sighed. To live this unrequited love was depressing, with my tears staining the cotton sheets and pillows as witness. I hated myself. I hated how unlovable I am.  
  
Depressed, I did the unthinkable and doused my feelings in bottles upon bottles of beer, until my brain was equivalent to the trash and gossip around the post office on Tuesdays about their favorite topic: me. Damn. Today was Tuesday. Impulses took my actions over, with my body and mind doing separate humiliations, but my heart acting the most deadly of them all.  
  
Tuesday. I hate Tuesdays. It seemed like Tuesdays have an unattainable grudge against me on Tuesdays, where all seems destined to do me wrong. Rained poured from the heavens, by the choirs of cherub angels weeping for the absence of the nightingale and his songs. I also wondered why he didn't play today, Tuesday of all days. This day has always been a "darker than pitch" day, but his play of nirvana would send a smile upon my dead slumber. Yet, today was different. Still under the spell of my anti- soberness, I went next door to ask my neighbor, probably the love of my life, the zest in which I live upon, to take my virginity for one night for I was going to die an old age, might as well have a night of passion before turning into a pure, adultered nun.  
  
Wow, my sarcasm was really on full drive tonight. Noticeably, I knew the white night gown I wore had clung possessively to my skin, like a lover upon a virgin. I shivered. Lover, virgin. Darien, Serena. I staggered across the wet streets of the asphalt grounds, feet away from my destination while my good, common sense had seem to disappear, abandoning a drunk virgin with her sexy neighbor across from her apartment.  
  
Once the door was in near sight, the knuckles had rapped a few times and got absolute silence. Then, impulse made my fist banged noisily on the cherry finish of the door, until it swung open to a very angered man. His face had an expression of annoyance, but had softened at my sight. A very strange sight it must be. He just lifted one of his boyish eyebrows in confusion, waiting for me to explain myself.  
  
"'Lo there, Darien Shields. I was just wondering if you could fulfill my wish and take my virginity just for this night, due to the fact that I'm going to die without experiencing a drop of sex. You know all that stuff, don't you? You look the part, handsome, attractive, well built. Now, do me another favor, catch me when I fall . . ."  
  
My voice had strained from the cold, the rain drenching my bones, chilling them into a shiver, and as I predicted, fell into the unconscious world of slumber, the darkness of my dream world embracing my feverish actions. I fell into a warm source of comfort, strong and possessive, only to find him embracing me to catch my wet, small body from breaking on the hard stone floor like a porcelain doll waiting to be loved.  
Bunny: *giggle* Serena's taking a piss now. Muwahahaha. She got nothing to blackmail me with.  
  
Serena: Remember the time when you pee-ed (what's the past tense of pee? peed? bird feed?) on the wall of McDonalds.  
  
Bunny: So? I pee everywhere.  
  
Serena: And the hobo slapped your butt?  
  
Bunny: So?  
  
Serena: *giggle hysterically*  
  
Bunny: I did not get that. Thank you everybody! Review, read, and rolos! . Eco tray a heria. (Greak for "I have three testicles.) I love that movie. My Big Fat Greek Wedding is a must see. But no a must have, how many times can you laugh to an old lady who got caught in the sprinkler while trying to escape her house? Quite a lot actually.  
  
Serena: Molerat. *giggles hysterically again and rolling on the floor like some freaky doormat*  
  
Bunny: Help me. I'm stuck in a hellhole. Ahh! Serena's here. I really must be in hell. Why!?! I was a good girl. I never did anything bad, but attacking those lesbian Russian girl band on the stage. It was for a good cause. My eyes was burning from watching them tongue each other. Help me.  
  
Five years later . . .  
  
Serena: Molerat. *I don't want to type it again, you know what she does to annoy me*  
  
Bunny: . . . kill me.  
  
Serena: Mole-  
  
Bunny: Shut the hell up. Take the damn gun and shoot me.  
  
Serena: *shoots herself*  
  
Bunny: Yeah. For the red, white, and blue.  
  
Serena: I'm already dead. Opps, I forgot. Molerat.  
  
Bunny: God. 


	2. Thursday

Disclaimer: Shit. Everything doesn't belong to me. So don't sue, cause money doesn't belong to me. I don't have talent. I need a life! Read and review because Serena needs a brain transplant. The doctor says that it shrunk ever since it was born. Serena is an it! Muwahaha.  
  
Part Two: Thursday  
  
"There, he left a grant exit, slamming the door with its echoing melody, a unchained and hollow thing, ringing through the obsidian room." - Serena Lawrynce, "Thursday"  
  
Obsidian. I woke to a room of the opaque black world that belonged to him. Every material thing was either satin bed sheets, sensous to the touch, the mirror a shady reflection with the manly black glass as its base, the curtains were dark as well, hiding so much of man I thought I knew. Here, I lay in his bed, against his satin sheets like a virgin sacrafice towards a god. I shivered at the thought.  
  
Soon enough, I notice a black shadow at the corner of the four poster bed, a steady silowhette in the distance, with his sapphire, close to a burning pitch-black like his room, eyes bearing his gaze against my figure. Moments passed, along with my insanity as I kept the silent prey looked down upon by the seductive predator.  
  
"Well? Rather quiet for someone who shook my silence and demanded for her virginity to be taken, while rudely insulting me with you stereotyping the person I am for who I look. I am not a man to take a stranger's virginity simply because she insults and wills it. Who are you?"  
  
I stayed a quiet stranger, afraid of the very words I would invoke in him. Why couldn't I stay sober on Tuesdays? Then, after a while, he had given up with a frustrated scowl, fire and passion burning in the irises of his eyes, apporaching with steps for every heartbeat. Until the dominating tyrant of the bed was inches away, with his skin radiating the heat upon mine, his breath upon mine, and arms locking me in, while he leaned forward, eyes to eyes, almost lips to lips. To move one distance is to seal our lips into a fateful kiss, ending my sanity and practically begging for him to deflower me.  
  
"Not speaking, are we? Listen to me, I don't just let some discriminating woman, no matter how innocently seductive you look or how many times I want to take you in the pitfalls of my bed, to make you moan and beg for more, screaming my name again and again, until we are one. Here me, you are staying in this room, until I get some answers."  
  
I gasped at the intensity of his sexual innuendo. Growling deeply, his eyes flared with a dark obsidian, glaring at something near my mouth: my lips. Which I used my tongue to lick the contours of the cherry pink softness. That was it, I was gone. His hand shot out to reach the back of my neck, drawing my in an adulterous, heated kiss, satin and sweat. Tongues clashed, demanding and punishing the vixen in me, punishing for the passion between us. All this took place while his hand created magic, fondling the curves of my neck, sending shiver everywhere. The tip of his velvety tongue had drawn a long wet circle upon the side of my lips, until the pleasure disappeared. To this, I opened my shady eyes, at the furious face of a man who I had shared this kiss.  
  
"Girl, until you give me an answer, I just might be tempted to grant your wish, but it won't be a fluffy, slow lovemaking. It would be hard, fast, and passionate fucking. Unless you value your virginity, open that vixen mouth of yours before I devour it."  
  
His hand wove through the naughty strands of ebony, while the face of Satin's son was in a intimidated scowl, confusion running through his eyes. There, he left a grant exit, slamming the door with its echoing melody, a unchained and hollow thing, ringing through the obsidian room. Here, I lay, sexually-frustrated and a caged raven against my will of a man who I thought I have fallen in love with. Where was the irony in that?  
  
Serena: *dress in rags and reading from an index card* Please review. I need the reviews to pay for my, er what's this word?, surgery.  
  
Bunny: See how sick she is.  
  
Serena: I can see the old ladies underwear. You know that tall one has a G- Strap.  
  
Bunny: *shudder* Sick child, cough.  
  
Serena: Cough! *spits out a spork*  
  
Bunny: Sporky! Where have you been? Momma's been worried about you, yes I was. *starts to fondle the handle*  
  
Serena: You thought I was sick. Review, read, and then rolos. 


	3. Friday

A/N: To answer the question that seems to resolve around this damn story's universe, I wrote this originally for the purpose of a contest. Like many contests, they had restrictions which for my case was a 1000 word limit. So I had to keep it short and meaningful, or er, to the point. However since my fucking (sorry for the prophanities little 13 year old munchkins) birthday was on the deadline day, since I missed it, now all I have is a half finished story. So I decided as a free bird to write what I want, which had started as a "Serena and Darien screw each other and then fall in love" to a "Serena and Darien tease each other, comfort, get mad, screw, and then fall in love with a little odd twists and turns. So I'm extremely sorry that the chapters are short. However they were like that to begin with. I promise they'll be longer.  
  
Disclaimer: Stop being lazy and read my previous chapters. I won't repeat the same damn thing again and again because some people won't take the time to read the fucking disclaimor. Get a job, loser.  
  
Part Three: Friday  
  
"Imagine, a powerful man brought down by a mere slip of a girl, who he defied his world and power for one look from her. This is why I fear to surrender my heart. I fear with all the blood stained upon my hands, for you are the only thing to bring me down on my knees." - Darien Shields, "Friday"  
  
Human contact was shadowed from me, with exceptions of every midnight where he would stroll in, expecting for a sleeping virgin, while he sat my the bedside, stroking my cheek delicately, until Darien had realized of the actions he was playing and drew away as if his hand was scorched my skin. Then he left, but the son of Satan would always come again every night, and every night it was a reminder why I loved this man, with the kiss as a reminder of our passion. I remember the very words he spoke every night, with the hazy look on his eyes.  
  
"Imagine, a powerful man brought down by a mere slip of a girl, who he defied his world and power for one look from her. This is why I fear to surrender my heart. I fear with all the blood stained upon my hands, for you are the only thing to bring me down on my knees."  
  
And every night, I would weep with him. Until, I decided that silence should be broken, and life should take place in the lethal game of chess he was playing with me as a pawn.  
  
One day, he came for a daytime visit, to see if I would surrender to him and his power. I stood from where I was seated, my eyes locking with his, noticing his gaze was on my bare shoulder, which was exposed by the white shirt that was so enormously huge it made me look smaller than I usually was cursed. Scarlet blushes had made me heat unusually, so I took my eyes towards the entwining fingers in my lap.  
  
Then, I opened my mouth, to find no noise had come out. I tried again with victory this time. "Sir, I have a preposition for you. If you agree to this, will you let me out? Please, sir, please." More pitiful my sight was, I added begging to my lowliness, degrading my dignity even more.  
  
"I will act as your servant, a maid if will, for an entire month. I work hard, I promise. Just please let me go after a month." An intangible emotion stirred in the depths of his midnight eyes, something I could sense with my hands, but it felt familiar with my heart. It was almost as if he was in pain. Pain of what? Pain for me leaving his sight, for such a beast to leave the beauty alone, to leave his castle. I might weep the day we will depart. Weep eternally.  
  
Seconds seemed more hours than minutes into days, but this was how time went on, until he spoke in a husky tone, far too sensual for a normal man, more of a god I've seen in those Greek books. Apollo. Adonis. Zeus. While he was a god, I was a mortal girl, defenseless against his wicked strength and sexuality. "Very well, you start today, I have a personal visitor today, and I need you to serve the prepared appetizers. I bought you some clothes that might be appropriate for your . . . er, position."  
  
The Thrid Episode of Hellhole 24/7, the Mini Series:  
  
Bunny: Don't speak to me today.  
  
Serena: Why not?  
  
Bunny: . . .  
  
Serena: Why not?  
  
Bunny: . . .  
  
Three hundred "why not's" later  
  
Serena: Why not?  
  
Bunny: Because if you don't shut the hell up, I'm going to let my German, valley girl/muscle man/message therapist on you and you will face his wrath. Go Pelly!  
  
*Some big guy in leather pants and a red ribbon in his hair comes out, starts speaking in a dunce Arnold way [you know the big lug that says "Hasta La Vista, Baby."]*  
  
Pelly: *speaks in German/Arnold valley girl way* Shut the 'ell up. My boy toy is going to call me. Oh Ricardo.  
  
Bunny: Boy toy? *sweatdrops* You are supposed to beat Serena to a pulp. After she drags me to this gay strip bar, I want her dead.  
  
Pelly: What the ever. I don't want my nails to break. I just got me a manicure from Ricardo. Oh that delicious bod.  
  
Serena and Pelly: *sings and dances on a gay bar stage with these guys in leopard bikinis* It's raining men . . .  
  
Bunny: Back to Hellhole 24/7 in a Gay Strip Bar. 


	4. Saturday

Thanks to all who reviewed out there. I know I have a pluto-load of mistakes and other shit. Please forgive me. Also a warm thankie to defiled cherub for being my own chibi editor at some of my small mistakes. You're so nice. I'm such an idiot. I don't know how I pass Language Arts each trimsester. This wil be the last chapter I will load for a week. I have a big debate on Tuesday. Damn I hate Tuesdays a lot, can't you tell? Oh yah, a note to C. Lily and all Lustful Expectations lovers, I am so entirely sorry for not updating that entirely too cute (that is one of my lighter fics about Dracie and Hermie) fic, but I am under extreme writer's block for that one. I was going to continue on for a new set of 10 of more chapters, but I'll settle for 3 or 5 to finish it off. I'm already finished with the next chapter, but I'm thinking whether or not to post it or not. Convince me readers, review in the Tuesday's Child review department of er, reviewing. Review, review, review for the sake of the sick Serena bastard who just took my keyboard and shoved it down her pig's mouth.  
  
Part Four: "Saturday"  
  
"Very beautiful. I fear my happily married associate will have his heart stolen by this siren who took perch in my house, who I had caught with my bear hands and imprisoned in this obisidian cage. The siren I will set free, no matter how desirable she is. Come. Let us start your mission. Let us start our month to live." - Darien Shields, "Saturday"  
  
The clothes he had "bought" for me were rather appealing to the beauty I knew not that I possessed. All was white, he explained to represent my cold innocence, the skirt a swaying curtain of Spanish silks, which I could smell the sweet spice of the land where this skirt bodice was made, the style of the Spanish seas and people. The top was a loosly ruffled blouse, shoulders bare, neckline bare, everything bare except for the seductively modest neckline where the top had started, carried by two pearl ribbons, elegant as the imposter in sheep's clothing.  
  
"Who am I kidding? I am not . . . "  
  
"Very beautiful. I fear my happily married associate will have his heart stolen by this siren who took perch in my house, who I had caught with my bear hands and imprisoned in this obisidian cage. The siren I will set free, no matter how desirable she is. Come. Let us start your mission. Let us start our month to live."  
  
Him. Darien Shields was not a stranger to flattery, to seing beauty, but was I something of a gorgeous woman? All this was said as his breath pressed against my cheek, a hand reaching across to mine for a single touch that made my eyes close in pleasure. His lips met my shivering fingers, one taste to take away the cold. There, he escorted me to the kitchen where I would serve my final days with him. Somehow, freedom wasn't worth it.  
  
Spices and scents had made the room into a carnal wonderland of tastes, of food. Heaven upon hell must have smelled like this: this heavenly, lascivious world of pleasure in food. I took in a deep breath, as he left the kitchent to greet his visitor. The bell rung after a period of silence, a sign to serve the appetizers and refreshments. Rather degrading, but I was a servant and I am who I am, Serena Lawrynce, a nobody who spent most of her life slaving away in the provinces of Japan because of the foster family who adopted a slave and treated her as one.  
  
My sturdy, callous hands gripped the handle, as I entered the finely polished room, taking in the glory of it all, the expense of its extravagence, of how it reeked wealth. I took a look at the visitor once I reached the table with Darien's comforting eye towards me. Those sturdy hands had started abruptly in surprise when my head turned to see who the mysery person was to find my foster father, Sasakawa-san. The soda pop liquid slipped from my hands, as if it was smeared with the grease of some cheap margarine, into the lap of my abusive "father."  
  
In impulse, I scurried off to get a basin and a towel to clean the mess I had created. To come back to a furious Japanese man and a curious young man. My knees directly went to the floor to scrub away the puddle of murky, maroon puddle with the fizz dispensing into the air. The position of a slave, on the ground, wiping the dirt off people's shoes.  
  
"Dirty girl! Why, Shields, do you you keep such impotent servants? This one reminds me of one I had in my farm in the province. Ditzy, a dirty blond, an ugly whore. Wait." Those insults, everything, made me turn me head timidly, daring him to recognize me. That he did.  
  
"There you are, slave. As an useless child, you were a slave. Now, a young woman, you still are. Pathetic." At this, he kicked my rib, causing me to fall helplessly on the wood, hard floor, caressing the cool, bitter texture mising with my hot, tearful eyes. Grabbing me, he threw me to the table, causing a vase of scarlet roses to stumble gracefully, showering me with its petals. As I cried, cried all my woes, especially to see the man I love watch the indiginity of all this, how I wasn't strong enought to save myself from dying again.  
  
Expecting another hit, my face turned away to my side, protecting myself from a fatal blow. None came, not even a whisper. My swollen, reddened eyes opened slowly to find Darien pinning Sasakawa to the wall, the Japanese man nearly being choked to death. The raven-haired savior growled in a deadly tone, a blaze burning in those nearly black orbs, pitch-black, entirely different from the passion of that morning several days ago.  
  
"Leave, Sasakawa, leave and never come back. Don't think that the agreement to save your business will continue now. Just leave, before your blood will appear in my hands. Darien escorted the man to door, practically throwing him out in the wet streets of London. While this was done, my hands reached forward to the cloth I was cleaning the spill with and continued. Stupidly.  
  
He came back growling like some mad bear woken from his dreary slumber, stifling the heat of the madness towards me, sending shivers through my shoulders. It was intimidating, so I continued.  
  
"Who was he to you? Why does he treat you like you aren't a beautiful person?" At his words, my labor stopped, as I rethought his flattery and almost believe him. I never was a beautiful person, attractive in some sense had never hailed upon me, so I grew knowing that beauty was not the rule of my house, but ugliness and deformity.  
  
"Because I'm not." I said in a mere whisper that could have caused butterflies to doubt their hearing. Then, I continued whiping the spilled cola, not noticing the enraged look upon his face. A hand came to grab my elbow forcefully, but not painfully. His body had come to close radius of mine, pressing me against the wall, letting the oversoaked rag fall to the ground in slow motion. To me it was torchure and time, melding into my enemy. Passion.  
  
"You are not ugly. Why the lack of self-confidence? Beauty is only skin- deep, but however, you surpassed both inner and outer to blind me with your glow. So mysterious," with this, a sensual finger dragged its velvet pleasure across my skin. "Very tasteful, my dear. I will show you your beauty, then after moaning a reply, you will see the depth of your appearance. A man would be foolish to ignore the angel before me, too bad, no other man can touch you like I can."  
  
No. I whispered a "no," highly weak, as if it was merely a word with no meaning, to this he arched his raven-colored brow lushously. No man can touch me like he can? Seeking an answer in his near-midnight eyes, the sight of it had startled me to cower in pleasure of the dominance and lust reeking heavily in those eyes. Almost obsidian.  
  
"I'm ugly, please don't waste your time and efforts on someone like me. No." Finally, my words were my final ones, to end the sexual tension of this room. Lips connected with lips, tasting and feeling, branding and marking. For punishment to show me of the non-existant beauty and the rush of adreniline coursing through my veins. His experience lips had traced a hot trail across towards my neck, the very swan-like neck. His tongue played wonders on my skin, fondling the velvet feel. Heaven, while living in hell. The hands long forgotten had pushed my snow-white skirt up higher than moral, tracing circles around the inside of my thigh, gaining a moan from the most inexperience.  
  
Darien's POV -  
  
"Mine. All mine to taste." Like a flash of light, pain and bittersweet pleasure had found a place to dance the tango upon my skin. Upon saying those words, my hands impulsively pulled back the curls of silk threads, flaxen, on that blessed head of hers, tipping her head, so there would be easy access to her throat. To brand her, to make her mine. Fangs came seducively upon that tasteful neck of hers to find the sweetest blood, finer than the dirty prostitutes I've sucked the life from, or the walking dead homeless on the streets. I could never taste another without the desire of this blood, for this woman. I must have her, all of Serena Lawrynce, first body, then mind, then heart. Reluctantly, I stopped, careful not to send her to heaven yet, knowing that her energy was the lowest pitfall. With one last, traitor lick across that scalding skin, I knew she belonged to me, soulmates for life. I branded her; she was mine.  
  
No other man would taste her, or it would be his death sentence. Limply, her body fell unconscious from the lack of life, but I knew that she would survive. Like my great-grandpapa, Count Dracula, I carried the clad in white maiden to my obsidian room in the way a sexually-frustrated groom would carry his blushing bride.  
  
Soon and very soon, you will be mine, little one.  
  
Fourth episode of this shit show starring those shit chararcters  
  
Bunny: Can I have another Bloody Mary and two tequillas?  
  
Waiter/Waitress: Hey like, don't you think that is too much?  
  
Bunny: *grabs him/her by the collar and points at the gay German guy and an eccentric Serena on stage for kareoke* I think that's too much, but does anything happen? No! Now get me three tequillas, lesbian.  
  
Waiter/Waitress: But, I'm a guy with fake boobs.  
  
Bunny: Do I give a shit if your boobs are real?  
  
Waiter/Waitress: *runs away crying to his boyfriend*  
  
Bunny: *watches Bunny and German Guy sing "Independent Woman" while a crowd of guys dance around a pole wearing a rag for a bikini*  
  
A 99.9 drinks later . . .  
  
Bunny: Opps. There goes my skirt. Opps. There goes my shirt. *stripteasing on top of the bar table* Whee.  
  
Waiter/Waitress: I think maam that you should get off. You're scaring away the people.  
  
Some gay guy named Cleo: Jonnie, my eyes hurt. It burns. Tell her to stop. Wahhh! *being comforted by boyfriend*  
  
German guy and Serena: I think she's the wierd one.  
  
German Guy (A.K.A. Pelly) Don't worry, God still loves her. *Suddenly a big voice from the sky bellows out "I don't love her. I love Hitler more." Sending a swarm of Mini-Barneys flying singing the "Hey Jude" song. At this very moment, the gay strip club was in chaos. The guys in bikinis were running around with their saggy butts going up and down, while perverted geeks with no girlfriends watch. The waiter/waitress is running to the girl's bathroom and starts making out with the janitor named Susan.  
  
Bunny: Hey Jude, don't be afraid.  
  
Pelly and Serena: Ahh. I'm in hell!  
  
Bunny: Welcome to hell. Population: 3. Muwahahaha.  
  
Pelly and Serena: *faces stuck to the window in attempts to escape* No!  
  
Bunny: Hey Jude . . . 


End file.
